


Broken Promise

by Oliver__Niko



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [2]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Character Death, M/M, Tragedy, Violence, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:34:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23157157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oliver__Niko/pseuds/Oliver__Niko
Summary: It only takes a single moment, a fight gone wrong, for them to break the promise that neither will die before the other.
Relationships: Sylvain Jose Gautier/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1662550
Comments: 4
Kudos: 37





	Broken Promise

**Author's Note:**

> I had to steal the 'dying in their arms' prompt for myself after realising I could use it for these two. I had a painful, but enjoyable experience writing this.
> 
> If you'd like to request a Bad Things Happen prompt, feel free to visit my Tumblr, oliverniko. For now, I hope you enjoy (?) this.

Screams. So many screams, that of both fury and pain alike. Soldiers yelling at the top of their lungs. Orders, warnings, anguish from all directions. And the scent of blood, _so_ much blood, as they fall on either side.

You become accustomed to it all, when you have fought in the war long enough. Sights are set on the future you must bring. As someone who is only human, you must prioritise certain lives over others, and to experience greater devastation over the fall of a loved one is normal. All lives matter. But it would only be a lie to say that there are certain people who mean so much more, and their loss would weigh far heavier than the hundreds, _thousands,_ of others that have been killed around you.

And that is why you must have each other’s backs. Always. Look ahead at what you are striving for, but also focus on what is around you in the moment; protect those who are most dear to you.

That is what they have always done. The two childhood friends, the bonds between them changing as this constant danger brings them to the steady realisation of why they mean so much to each other.

“Careful, Felix!” Sylvain shouts, sat atop his steed, a glow cast over his armour from the Lance of Ruin in his hand. He watches as Felix gets to his feet.

“Nothing to worry about.” Felix’s hand reaches out, sending a blast of lightning straight into an armoured solider. There’s the slightest smile on his face when his eyes glance back to Sylvain. As though to say, _“You’re a fool to even think anything will happen.”_

But when almost all of them have accepted that their death could be around the corner at any given day, reassurances between each other no longer feel as sincere as before. War is unpredictable. It’s cruel. It takes only a moment, a single slip-up or even simply a stronger foe, to bring you down.

Sometimes it is simply one of those things.

Felix’s sword finishes off another soldier, Sylvain’s lance another. Their comrades are the same in the distance. A sight that spins, blurred and unsteady, as a blast of magic catches Sylvain off guard and sends him flying off his horse.

A yell of pain catches itself in his throat. Eyes flicker down to his body to inspect the damage. Nothing fatal, even if he winces as he sits himself up. His hand takes hold of the lance fallen to his side.

A flash of steel in his vision. Frozen body as he stares with widened eyes at the sword swinging his way, and time that slows to a stop as he thinks, _this is it. This is how it all ends, after all._

“Don’t—” The world comes back into focus as Felix leaps in front of him, sword blocking the Imperial Soldier’s own, “you _dare_ go dying on me!”

“Sorry.” Sylvain crouches, using his lance to help him. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

And everything seems bright again. Felix fending the solider off with his usual grace, no doubt in Sylvain’s mind that it is another fight he will win. It’s not until Sylvain is back on his feet, ready help the man protecting him, that he notices.

The blood seeping down Felix’s leg, an injury that Sylvain has been too oblivious to notice.

An injury that is enough to make Felix falter. For his usual swift movements to fail, his sword that little too late, and to stop the blade that drives straight through his chest.

A sight that has only, until now, haunted Sylvain’s nightmares. A scream that he has hoped would never be released from his lips.

“ _FELIX!_ No, no, Felix—”

A strangled cry as he slashes his lance up the soldier’s chest. For the first time, the wound, the blood, the body that collapses to the floor, it all doesn’t matter. He only cares for the other crumpled figure on the ground.

The lance falls by Sylvain as he slides to his knees. Frantic hands turn Felix over, praying that it’s not as bad as he fears. He knows even before he sees the blood seeping Felix’s chest that it is useless. The gaping wound and torn clothes simply add more horror to this reality.

“W-Why did you—You shouldn’t—”

Felix smiles. _Smiles._ Even with a face frighteningly white, and blood trickling from his mouth. “Th-The amount of … of times you’ve done this for me. Thought … thought I’d r-return the favour.”

“Felix—”

“Didn’t … didn’t do it that well, huh?” Felix coughs, face creasing with agony. “Heh … Dying, after all I said t-to you.”

“You’re not dying. Don’t be stupid.” An arm settles around Felix’s shoulder, raising his body up. Those eyes say it all. Tell him how fruitless it is to deny reality.

“S-Sylvain—”

“Don’t talk. Don’t. You’re just going to exert yourself, and …” Sylvain shakes his head, a futile effort in clearing his thoughts. “It’s fine. You’ll be fine, I just have to …”

The lance left forgotten on the ground, his other arm shifts itself under Felix’s legs. All pain seems to be cleared from Sylvain’s body as he stands with Felix in his arms. No attention can be given to anything but that blood. All that terrifying, dark blood, that Sylvain knows he has no time to even try and stop. Not just yet. He needs help.

“ _Mercedes!”_ he bellows, passing through the battalion’s soldiers. “Mercedes, he needs you, _please!”_

“You shouldn’t … shouldn’t leave yourself unarmed.” Sylvain glances down; Felix’s head rests against Sylvain’s chest. Voice a little weaker, more distant. “N-Not for me.”

Sylvain shakes his head. Still marching forward, hoping to anyone who will listen that he will reach Mercedes’ proximity. All he can see among the chaos are pegasus wings in the distance, and arrows shooting through the air

“I can’t let you die. I can’t.”

“Crying and e-everything.” Felix’s eyes close, yet he still has that smile. “T-To think, the only time you’d hold me, wo—” he coughs, and crimson droplets splatter on Sylvain’s armour. “W-Would be with … this.”

Sylvain stares, his mind too panicked, too frightened, to comprehend what this means. “What are you saying?”

“I … I-I don’t … Guess the blood loss is g-getting to me, huh?”

“Felix—” His words stop short as a green light envelopes Felix. “Mercedes—her magic!”

He sinks down to the ground, shielded by their allies. Felix is rested over his lap. Still curled in towards Sylvain, limbs lifeless, all signs of his usual strength vanished.

But it has to come back. And it will. One of Sylvain’s hands lifts Felix’s cape to his mouth, tearing off as large of a strip as he can manage with his teeth. Anything, _anything_ to apply pressure to the wound, as the magic helps him—but why?

“Why isn’t it enough?” Sylvain’s hand trembles as he presses the cloth to the wound. “Why are you still—it should be working!”

“I’m too far gone.” Felix’s eyes are now half-open. Glistening, now void of the smile he has had on his face. “Y-You’re both just drawing it out.”

Sylvain shakes his head. Again, and again. “Damn it, I can’t—after all you said to me, lectured me on protecting you—”

“That’s w-what … what I was saying before. Stupid, right?”

“You _were_ stupid, fighting that guy when you were hurt! You shouldn’t have …” By now, Sylvain can feel the tears on his face, perhaps because they’ve started to blur his vision. “Felix—”

Felix shakes his head. “L-Let me say one thing.”

“Don’t, don’t start with all that!”

“Sylvain, please.”

The voice is so desperate, so _vulnerable,_ that Sylvain is forced into a silence. He stares into Felix’s eyes. Do they burn even now, because of his willpower to say his final words?

“I w-wish I didn’t have to … have to die to be this cl-close to you.” Felix chuckles weakly, and with it, comes a new wave of pain over his face. “It’s … what I-I’ve wanted for a while, I think … B-But you were always … always …”

“Always chasing someone else,” Sylvain finishes for him, somehow understanding Felix more than he ever has in this moment, and not even taking a second to question it. A little light appears on that pale face, as though glad that Sylvain can guess.

“C-Can … can you do one last thing for me?”

“Anything.” A whisper, without the strength to deny anymore, at last accepting it’s worthless.

“I want … w-want you to kiss me, just … just this once.”

Sylvain’s eyes grow wide, teeth bite at his lip, but he nods. It’s agonising. That he has only realised now how much he wants this too, and how he can never have it again. Not away from this moment, when he leans down, and carefully raises Felix up, to bring their lips together.

He is cold. So, so cold, yet full of life as well. And by the time Sylvain opens his eyes, straightens back up, there are tears falling down Felix’s cheeks as well. A gloved hand reaches for Sylvain’s face. Sylvain grasping it firmly stops the convulsive shaking.

“I-I was so ready to die, but now,” Felix lets out a choked sob, “I-I don’t want to go.”

Sylvain presses a kiss to Felix’s palm, trying to hold back further tears. “I’m here. I’m here until you go, all right? I’ll always be here, I promise.”

“P-Promise … I did break that, didn’t I? How … h-how we were supposed to die … together.”

“Sylvain, Felix!”

Mercedes’ shout. Sylvain cannot even turn around to try and find her. He can only bring Felix closer to him, forcing himself to not look away. Not for a second. The only thing that breaks their eye contact is Felix’s own eyes closing, turning his head towards Sylvain.

“Sylvain, I-I … Thank you.”

Felix is already so still, it’s nothing but intuition, the sudden rush of anguish that envelopes Sylvain, that tells him Felix is gone. Sylvain’s head bows over him. The tears can no longer come. Shock finds him instead, paralysing him, as his mind tries to process what this means.

That Felix is no longer going to be here.

“I’m sorry!” Mercedes’ voice, the woman falling to her knees by them, face buried in her hands. “I’m so sorry, Sylvain—it was too severe, and I couldn’t—”

Her words are broken off by a sob. It is her misery, the arms which now wrap around Sylvain, that force him back to reality as he howls in agony.


End file.
